CHAPTER FORTY
WEST
“NICE HORSE,” FORD ANNOUNCES AS HE SLIDES ONTO THE SAME BENCH Skylar always sat on. I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from
snapping at him to get off of it.
That would be entirely unhinged of me.
Maybe it’s the lack of sleep or the lack of food, but without the kids here this week, I have treated myself like shit.
I miss Skylar so badly that I feel like I have the flu. My bones ache with it. All that optimism she likes about me is nowhere to be found.
I’m floundering.
Only the horses make me feel better.
“Yeah? What makes it a nice horse, Ford?” I call back from the back of the horse Skylar watched me start only a few weeks ago. She’s gotten a little better every day and spending time doting on her has made me feel a little less stricken. I can’t truly make myself feel better but watching her come around to handling has been a small victory over a bleak few days.
“Uh…” Ford fumbles around, head tilting back and forth. He doesn’t know shit about horses, and he’s not a big talk-about-our-feelings kind of guy. I remember him telling me about Rosie and him getting together. He ripped that Band-Aid off with little tact and a lot of awkward body language.
This feels similar.
“It’s got…nice hair?”
“Her coat? You like her coat?” I ask with a chuckle that feels unfamiliar in my throat.
“Yeah, sure. Whatever. I’m trying to be nice and normal and shit.”
I urge the mare forward, bringing her to a halt and facing Ford at the
fence of the arena. “You’re not doing very well.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m a dick and kind of weird, but I tried.”
I laugh now. “Ford, we’ve been friends for over twenty years. Why are you trying to be something you’re not?”
He swallows and pins me with his green eyes. “Because I’ve never seen you like this, and I don’t know what to do.”
I lick my lips and glance away, then force my shoulders up into an unaffected shrug. “It’s fine. I’ll survive. I always do.”
He leans back on the bleachers, looking casual and disheveled as he props his elbows on the board behind himself. “No, I don’t mean survive. I’ve seen you sad before. What I haven’t seen is you giving up so fucking easily. It’s pathetic.”
I start. Then my spine straightens, and my voice turns icy. “Come again?”
He kicks a foot and curls his lip, trying to get horseshit off the bottom of his expensive boot. “You’ll survive? What is that? That’s fucking quitter talk.
Where’s the fight, West? Where’s the guy who was ready to throw hands when someone so much as looked at his little sister the wrong way?”
“Come on. We both know I’m not like that anymore.”
“Why, though? There’s a time and a place for that kind of passion. And this? This, West?” He points at the ground in front of my horse. “This is the fucking time. You’re always so busy fighting for everyone else. Your kids, your sister, —hell, even me. But how about yourself?”
I blink. “You’re really leaning into that whole dick character trait right now, huh?”
“Someone has to. Everyone else is so busy feeling bad for you that they’re scared to tell you the truth.”
My teeth grind. I hate this. I hate everything Ford is saying to me right
now.
I hate it because it’s true.
I hate it because it makes me hate myself a little more than I already do.
“Best friends don’t sit by and watch each other fuck up their lives.
Consider this your intervention. You know I’m a private person. And that’s what keeps me from ever asking too many questions about your personal life.
So I don’t know a lot about your relationship with Skylar, but I know what it’s like to spend years pining after someone. I know what it’s like to watch them leave and start a new life. And it’s fucking miserable.”
Dread. Dread sinks in and all I can think is…
What have I done?
“I fucked up.” My voice cracks, and I scrub a hand over my face. “I was so certain she’d leave. And then she did. She told me to let her go. She was so confident about it. And it’s like…I did this to myself. I should have known better.”
“You’re new to long-term relationships that you actually want to be in, but let me tell you something I know for sure: You don’t love someone only when it’s convenient or easy. You love them when it’s fucking awful and the world is falling apart around you.”
“Is that from one of your emo poetry books?”
Ford rolls his eyes at me as I cover my overflowing emotion with a jab about his reading preferences as a kid. “Skylar has spent her entire life expecting people to let her down. She’s so used to it that she’s not even offended by it. But I am. She deserves better. And, West? So. Do. You.”
The knowledge that Skylar is accepting of people letting her down guts me. And Ford’s words land like shrapnel in my chest. Like he just knows the things that will get to me. Like he’s privy to the things I tell myself when no one is around.
You don’t deserve her. She was always out of your league. This will get easier.
But that last one is a lie for sure. Skylar is my person. My life could never be better without her in it. I’ve sentenced myself to a lifetime of misery to respect her wishes.
“I know you. And you are the hardest working, toughest motherfucker I know. So quit moping and start acting like it. Go fight for her.” With that, he pushes to stand, wipes his hands over his pants like just being near the barn has made him dirty, and then turns to walk away.
But not before calling back over his shoulder, “Oh, by the way, her dad and agent hacked her email and distributed the photos. She burned the world down on morning television today. Fired everyone. She’s trending on every social media outlet. I’m pretty sure she’s going to win that award this
weekend too.”
What?
“Why didn’t you lead with that?”
“Wanted to be a dick first.”
My mind spins. I want to kill her dad. I want to give her the biggest high five. I want to watch her win that award.
I want her.
I don’t think twice before calling out to Ford’s retreating form, “Can I borrow your private jet?”
And I can only imagine the smug smirk of on his dickish face as he responds, “It’s fueled up and ready when you are.”